


your hands you're accounted for

by Nyxierose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Internal Monologue, Season/Series 06 Speculation, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 21:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18903025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: "She would not be widowed a second time."





	your hands you're accounted for

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jouissance (restrained_ubiquity)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restrained_ubiquity/gifts).



> So, this is... speculation, on some level, and also me wanting to write a version of this that would be more satisfying for me than what would happen if the show actually Goes There. I've been in this trashfire since the beginning and I trust NOTHING.
> 
> Title from "Fighting For Nothing" by Meg & Dia.

"I can't do this again."

The words repeat in Abby's head, over and over, one short goddamn sentence that decided her fate years ago. She made her choice then, at what felt like one of the scariest moments of her life. One more chance. She would not be widowed a second time. She _refused_.

Look where that got her. Look how hard she tried. Look how it still went to shit in the end.

She made her choice. She will follow through as best she can.

Behind a locked door, two days survived this time. The dark things in her heart made more vocal by loss, overwhelming her, but this is nothing new. She laid down these plans years ago, same day she admitted to herself that something had in fact changed within a dynamic she once thought would never be anything but anger. Weeks before she kissed him. Even then, in too far to back out.

It's horrifically selfish, and there's a beauty in that. To take one's own life upon losing a lover is dramatic like she's never been, the sort of choice made by women decades younger than her. But oh, she is tired, she has thought of death for other reasons for so long, she is-

Two days. Two days since he tried to sacrifice himself for her one last goddamn time and it _worked_ and she was right fucking there and it is not fair, it is not fair for a good man to die so tragic for her. She should've stopped him. (She should've done a lot of things.)

She can't do this again. She's not the woman she was eight years ago, the last time she lost a partner. She is not that strong or that determined to believe in things greater than herself.

Behind a locked door. She paces back and forth, bracing herself. The bottle of pills is on the table when she's ready. An appropriate finale, she thinks - one last return to that hell - and the most idiot-proof method she could think of. She has run numbers in her head, counted out how many will kill her and decided to double that just in case. In her current state, she will succeed.

She shouldn't do this. She knows that. There is still some vague hope for humanity - but she does not deserve to watch on the sidelines, once more alone. There is no rising from these ashes. No moving forward, no repairing her heart.

There is a note on the table, waiting to be found. When no one sees her for a day or two, someone will come looking. Hopefully not her daughter. If there is anything that makes Abby hesitate, as she tries to steady herself, it is what she leaves behind. A better person would stay and support and-

She is not needed, she reminds herself. Clarke is a grown woman now and more than capable of taking care of herself and has the beginnings of a beautiful life. Abby is not a vital part of that picture anymore, and if she's honest with herself, she hasn't been since before the bunker. Years, now. Didn't stop her trying, but she knew.

The only person who _needed_ her lies in an unmarked grave now. At least, she thinks that's what happened. She doesn't actually know.

Marcus died as he lived - honorable, trying to find a better way, trying to protect her. The way she knew he would ever since the first near-miss, up in the sky several galaxies away. All the times he tried, the scars he collected - at least she has a good memory of that, at least she got to run her fingers over every one of them three days ago, at least all of that is vivid, at least-

If there is an afterlife, if he is somehow watching her right now from some higher plane, she deserves every bit of his anger. And yet she knows, if such things exist, it would be superficial. He stood by her through her parade of bad choices at the bottom of the world, and never once did she doubt his love. She knew. She always knew.

She should've died. She should've stopped him. She didn't.

Abby is tired of always trying, tired of being ignored, tired of schemes and wars that never end well. She never wanted any of this. In a different world, without a tether, she would've taken herself out of the picture years earlier. Love saved her, gave her reason to wake up when every cell in her body was tempted by the knife she kept under the mattress. She compromised, took the pills because she had to do _something_ to take the edge off and that was an easy option, but the dark things did not win because she was not alone.

And now she is. And now she allows herself to fall.

Abby is forty-seven, she thinks - time is weird, she's not sure anymore, could be a year off in either direction, but forty-seven feels right. In the world she grew up in, that would've been a decent enough lifetime. She is not a tragedy taken from the world too young, as she has seen too much of. A decent lifetime, and she did what she could with it, she tried so hard, she tried and it was not enough, she-

She leaves a legacy made flesh. A daughter who will save the world - if there is one thing Abby believes in her final moments, it is that one flicker of hope. All that matters lies in another body now, capable of so much more.

Unlike her. There is no place left for her. Perhaps there never was, but now less than ever.

She doubts she'll be remembered, in whatever stories are told about her era. She and her partner will likely never be more than stray names on a datapad, and she is at peace with that part of the ending.

Abby stops pacing, takes one last look at herself in the mirror opposite her. Time has not been kind to her. She hopes they bury her beside wherever the hell they put him, she wants that one last kindness, she wants-

She opens the bottle of pills and counts out her number, then swallows. She is making her choice.

In her last moments, she lies down on the floor and drifts into something much deeper than sleep. And in her last conscious seconds, she feels some kind of presence beckoning her soul forward into whatever comes next...


End file.
